Falling Asleep on a Teammate
by xXFissshBonesssXx
Summary: OT6 or Gen - 5 times, 1 time style - 5 times the Avengers fell asleep on a teammate, and the one time they all fell asleep together. Can be read as everyone/everyone, or completely gen no pairings


**ASLEEP ON A TEAMMATE**

OT6 (Clint/Bruce/Tony/Thor/Steve/Natasha) - 5 times, 1 time format - Falling asleep on a teammate, the one time they all fall asleep together. Very mild, can be read as Gen (no pairings)

* * *

**1. Thor/Tony**

Steel crumpled under Mjölnir like tin foil. The thunderer drew back his hammer and struck again and again, weary from the battle but not yet without strength to strike.

"The enemy comes without end," announced Thor in a bellow, "We are outnumbered, Tony Stark! It would do us well to call for aide!"

"You know, the head sets are programmed to pick up whispers, Thor," the intercom buzzed, "No need to test the volume capacity."

"Did you not hear me?"

"Still bellowing," Tony yawned. "Try toning it down big guy? It'd kill me to have to invent myself a super-hero caliber hearing-aide..."

Thor yelled wordlessly and Tony cut the feed for a minute. "JARVIS, could you," he felt his jaw attempt to unhinge in the next yawn, "It's, probably best if we... dropped a few thousand feet, so I'm closer to the ground..."

_"Sir?"_

Thor was busy sending cars flying when his teammate dropped out of the sky and onto him.

The demi-god grunted as they blasted through a small crowd of unfriendlies, sending them flying. A small impact-induced crater blossomed on the pavement where they had skid from. The thunder-god shook off his shock and the rubble from his golden hair and sat up cautiously, Mjölnir still in hand.

"Tony Stark?"

There was worry and confusion in Thor's address to the ton of unmoving metal heaped across his lap.

Several fiendish characters from the mob had regrouped after being flung like ragdolls and shot out across the street to where the two Avengers sat. Thor looked up from his friend and swung his hammer 'round, letting it gather speed before it flew out to strike the villains to their backsides. When it had hit its mark Thor rose his palm and called Mjölnir back to him and prepared to send it flying once more. On his lap, the pile of metal surrounding his friend hissed steam and the Iron Man faceplate dropped off. Thor loosed his hammer into a stream of oncoming baddies with a grunt, one hand pressed firmly over the glowing triangle of the Arc Reactor in Tony's suit.

"Can you hear me?" Thor asked as he let Mjölnir fly a third time.

"Oh, so now you talk at a reasonable volume," Tony grumbled.

"What caused you to fall from the sky?"

"Lack of caffine."

"You require sustenance to continue the bout?" Thor asked, and this time looked down at his teammate for confirmation. Tony made to brush off Thor's concern with a well-placed remark about the big guy's tendency to be the first to knock off back at HQ when he was interrupted by a massive yawn and the sound of about fourteen assailiants crying out as Mjölnir flew back to his teammate's outstretched hand.

"You know what, fuck it. Can you get us over to seventeenth and Park? There's a Starbucks there."

* * *

**2. Steve/Bruce**

The car ride over from HQ to their undisclosed testing location was hours. Presumably spent driving in circles, to throw off any unwanted eyes from following them down a single straight path, or to confuse the passengers so they didn't know where they were going, either. Steve Rogers sat cross-armed and dedicated to ignoring the way his stomach lurched every time the driver decided to pull a 180.

"Not fond of car rides?"

Blue eyes cut sidelong to the other passenger.

"Not really fond of this particular car ride, Dr. Banner. But I'll manage."

Bruce smiled (a little) and nodded, eyes cast down and then out the very tinted windows.

Steve didn't know how the other man was taking all the lurching. He certainly could do without being conscious for the entire ride. Knowing Fury, they might be in this car for hours before they reached their destination. And Steve was beginning to regret not taking Stark's 'put-you-out-for-the-ride' pills. _Really_ regretting.

Banner must have seen the tension in his face because after a few terse minutes of blinking rapidly and staring at his own hands or the driver's headrest, the other man reached up and patted his shoulder.

Steve's brow drew together in confusion.

"You'll feel better once we're there," Banner said, "Until then, sleep."

The corners of the Captain's mouth quirked as he wrestled with the idea. Bruce patted his shoulder again.

"Or," he suggested with half a grin, "You can lay out on my lap. Leg's a much better pillow, probably."

Steve smiled despite himself.

"You'll wake me when we get there?"

"I wouldn't leave you in this car a second longer than you need to be," Banner promises as he leans over to steady his skull on the Doctor's shoulder, "Promise."

Steve falls asleep wondering how the slant he has to lean at to get to Banner's shoulder will leave him without a cramp when he wakes. He finds, just before slipping into unconsciousness, that he really doesn't care.

* * *

**3. Natasha/Thor**

They are back to back on a rooftop, ideal for Thor to summon lightning should he have need, ideal for Natasha to send up the flare to let the others know their location. Communication is down and they're waiting out the night. Thor hasn't been wounded as not much from Midgard can do the demi-god any considerable damage (except apparently knives or daggers, Thor thinks miserably) but he is weary from a long day of fighting.

Even the greatest warriors have their limits. Even gods.

"Wanna take ten?"

"I should be asking that question of you, Lady Widow," Thor rumbles in the soft tones Natasha has schooled him into when they have need for secrecy. She doubts he ever truly had need to whisper on Asgard. Despite her best efforts the demi-god still manages to make himself audible at every turn and so he has been on a strict speak-when-necessary-or-not-at-all restriction since the mission took off. "I have had two turns of sleep now. It is you who should be offered a reprieve."

"Thor, I can't summon lightning if we need to fry seventeen people at once, or swing Mjölnir around and fly us out if all else fails," Natasha argues gently, "and I didn't spend the last fourteen hours on my feet taking down half an army. Shut your eyes again. I'll wake you if I need to."

The thunder-god murmurs something in the third attempt to get Natasha to take a break when the Widow shifts. Without her back to lean against Thor falls backwards without ceremony, his head landing square on Natasha's lap, and Thor manages an endearing pout at falling for the same trick a third time.

"Sleep, big guy," Natasha prompts.

"I shall not forget this kindness," Thor murmurs, eyes already closing. He tucks his mighty hammer to his side and sleeps with his fingers still curled 'round its handle. Hazel eyes watch the demi-god's breathing slow and even out. Then the Widow sets her head on an intermittent swivel.

The only move she makes before waking Thor as the sun creeps up is to shift the Asgardian so his snores don't give away their position.

* * *

**4. Clint/Steve**

Fury has to stop sending them on recon that lasts more than forty-eight hours. It's inhumane.

The headset is buzzing in Clint's ear as he moves his eyes, the only part of him he feels safe letting move at the moment. He's acting as a security camera and has cooped himself up in a corner no one would think to look up into. His knees will hurt when he has to stand up. There is a definite cramp developing in his calves and there has been a cramp in his back for the past hour and forty-five. The only thing between him and being a statue with cameras for eyes is that he can understand the constant stream of useless information from Captain Obvious. A statue probably couldn't.

Unless the statue was also JARVIS, Clint thinks.

He's had to rework his definition of impossible since meeting several of the members of his team.

_"Clint, you still with us?"_

"Yeah," he quips, reply on automatic as he blinks his eyes furiously.

_"Repeat my last two sentences in full."_

The Captain's demand gets a few moments of static.

_"That's what I thought. Scoot over."_

Huh?

Before Clint can ask for clarification there's two distinct taps, one as someone leaps up impossibly high from the ground floor, and another as the super-soldier swings himself nearly effortlessly up into the rafters Hawkeyes has glued himself to. The presence of another person is like a splash of cold water over the shoulders. For about three seconds. Clint turns back to his post but the Captain catches his fluttering.

"We've been at this for a long time," Steve is saying.

"I can _do_ this."

The other man lands a hand on Clint's shoulder. He looks at the super-soldier with grim bleary-eyed determination.

"Never said you couldn't. But you could probably do with some shut eye."

"Speak for yourself," Clint mutters, but there's no real heat behind the remark, and Steve hasn't let go his shoulder.

"We both need some sleep," the Captain is saying, and damn if Clint doesn't want to just give in to the authoratative tones and let his teammate order him to some much needed rest.

"But," and now he's not even trying, "The mission-"

"We'll take turns. Half-hour watches. Natasha and Thor have the other side of the city covered. If anything slips by us, you can be damn sure it won't get by _them_." There's a no-argument tone to Steve's voice that Clint finally allows himself to yield to. He murmurs something half-hearted before the Captain sets them up back to back. They lean against each other evenly. Clint wonders drowsily if Steve has to pull at all so he won't squash him, but five minutes of the warmth of Steve's back against his shoulders and spine instead of cold cement or steel and he finds he cannot care less.

* * *

**5. Bruce/Tony (+Coulson)**

Agent Coulson stands outside the laboratory with a thick blanket in hand. It's 2:48 AM. Both Stark and Banner were last seen busy in the laboratory at 8:00 PM last night, or at least that's the last time anyone had eyes on either scientist. Coulson checks his watch to be sure of the time, decides that knocking is futile, and flashes his key-card.

Agent Coulson's key-card opens all the doors. The secret laboratory six layers down in the secure stomach of HQ with four different security codes and eye scans required is no exception to the rule.

The door beeps and opens.

Inside, he finds exactly what he expected. Lights still on to optimal working radiance, bubbles from a test tube rolling to a boil where the gas has been left on, Starkpads on all the counters, and two men with their heads together leaned up against the glass wall of an alcove.

The Agent crosses the room with silent, measured paces. He unfolds the blanket and slips it carefully over the men's laps. There is a moment when the doctor adjusts in his sleep, but it's only to grip the blanket in hand and tug it up to his shoulders. Stark sleep-grumbles until Bruce stills.

Coulson stays long enough to turn off the gas beneath the test tube and dim the lab's lights.

* * *

**+1, Pile**

Missions are hard. They wouldn't be here if they weren't dealing with situations the police or fire department or local authorities could handle and so most missions border on the impossible. When all's said and done they all retire at HQ for the night. Everyone has their own room in the wing designated to sleeping.

Except Steve finds the room cold and the blankets too thin.

Except Natasha can't get familiar with the four square walls of gunmetal grey.

Except Tony really hates the sheets.

Except Bruce keeps tossing and waking up half-convinced part of him is still green.

Except Clint can't convince himself that the lock on the door isn't infallible.

Except that when everyone's almost uncomfortable enough to do it themselves, there's a quiet knock on the door, and Thor's voice asks in a dreamy rumble if they want to.

One by one the demi-god gathers his teammates to the biggest bedroom, designated to him because that's how the numbers were drawn, and one by one they all crawl onto the massive circular mattress built to withstand Asgardian density. They clip into each other a fair bit - the bed is big, but not designed for six bodies - but with some minor adjustments, someone tucking their elbows in, someone slinging a leg over the edge of the bed, two people ducking their heads together (in the name of conserving bedspace), and somehow they all fit. When everyone is somewhat settled Thor will smile broadly and toss the single blanket over everything and everyone. Somehow it is big enough.

Often Clint and Natasha will tangle up in each other. Bruce likes to have his back to Thor or Steve, or settles between them. Tony likes to sprawl, limbs akimbo, but tends not to move much once he's unconscious.

* * *

_Extra:_

Every morning after there are six mugs full to the brim with coffee waiting on Thor's nightstand.

No one's caught him yet, but the Avengers are pretty sure they know where the coffee comes from, despite never seeing anyone actually set it there.

Thor's door is no exception, after all.


End file.
